Havoc turns me to face him, his blue eyes intense as he adjusts the cut on my shoulders. “Perfect,” he murmurs, and then his mouth claims mine.
The kiss is deep and frantic, another public declaration. His hands cup my face as whistles and catcalls erupt around us. Someone—sounds like Diesel—lets out a particularly wolf-like howl. I should be embarrassed, but the only thing I feel is a sense of belonging.
When he finally releases me, my lips are tingling, and my cheeks are flushed.
“Drink?” Havoc asks.
I nod, not trusting my voice. We move to the bar, and as Havoc orders our drinks from the prospects, I glance around the room. My eyes land on Ruth and Carol, standing together near the pool table. They’re both wearing cuts too—black leather vests I’ve never noticed them wearing before, withProperty of TankandProperty of Boneacross the backs. They raise their glasses to me, smiling with something like pride in their eyes.
As we move through the crowd, congratulations flowing around us, I can’t help but wonder about the implications of those words.
When we reach Ruth and Carol, I finally ask the question that’s been lingering.
“Can I ask about the property thing?” I say. “I mean, isn’t it kind of... demeaning? Being someone’s property?”
Ruth’s laugh is warm as she adjusts her own cut. “Honey, I used to think the same thing. But in this world, it means something different.”
Havoc’s arm tightens around my waist. “It’s protection,” he explains. “Everyone in this life knows what that patch means. It means you’re mine. Anyone who touches you, they answer to me.”
“It’s not about ownership like we’re objects,” Carol adds, sipping her drink. “It’s about belonging. The men have their patches showing they belong to the club. We have ours showing we belong to them.”
Ruth nods. “Trust me, I was a women’s studies major before I met Tank. Had my share of protests back in the day.” She touches her own cut with affection. “But in club life, this is respect. This makes you untouchable to others.”
“The world out there doesn’t understand,” Havoc says, his fingers tracing my shoulder through the leather. “But in here, wearing my name means you’re protected. Respected. No one would dare disrespect what’s mine.”
Carol smiles. “Bone and I’ve been together thirty years. This patch saved my ass more than once when we ran into trouble with other clubs. One look at whose property I was, and they backed off.”
“It’s more than protection, though,” Ruth says. “It means you’re family now. Not just his—” she nods at Havoc “—but ours too. The club protects its own.”
I run my fingers over the leather again.
“So it’s like... a declaration? Not a limitation?”
“Exactly,” Havoc says, pressing a kiss to my temple. “Doesn’t change who you are. Just tells everyone who’s got your back.”
The music grows louder as the night progresses, and Havoc keeps me close, introducing me to some nomad members I haven’t met yet. My new leather cut feels heavy on my shoulders, but I love how Havoc’s eyes keep returning to it.
“Another drink?” Diesel appears with shot glasses, passing one toward me.
Havoc nods his approval, and I down it, feeling the burn of whiskey slide down my throat. It’s my second, along with a beer, and the room has taken on a pleasant, fuzzy glow. Havoc’s arm around my waist feels like the only thing keeping me grounded.
I lean into him, feeling the alcohol spread through me. “This is nice,” I murmur.
His gaze sharpens as he looks down at me. “Just wait, baby girl.”
As we move through the crowded room, I notice something strange. In the darker corners, on couches pushed against the wall, some of the club men are with women I vaguely recognize—thesweetbuttswho hang around hoping for attention. But they’re not just kissing. One woman’s dress is pushed up, a biker’s hand between her legs. Another is on her knees before a patched member.
My eyes widen, and I feel heat rise to my face. I’ve never seen people being so... public before.
Even more surprising, I spot Tank and Ruth near the back hallway. Ruth is pressed against the wall, Tank’s large hand disappearing beneath her shirt as they kiss deeply.
“Oh,” I breathe, unsure where to look.
Havoc’s grip tightens on my hip, fierce and possessive. He leans down, his breath hot against my ear. “You’re wearing the cut, might as well show them exactly what it means.”
I turn to him, pulse racing. “What?”
His voice drops to a growl that only I can hear. “I’m going to fucking breed you in front of everyone on that pool table, make them see that you really are mine.”
